Myles Brady remembers the heat. He remembers the glow, the orange flicker of a fire, and the crackling and popping around him. And he remembers the commotion: his brother groaning in the passenger seat, the man at the window asking questions, the hydraulics wrestling the crumpled car off his crushed body.
For the next three weeks at Sunnybrook Hospital, Brady slipped in and out of consciousness. He hallucinated. He didn’t know what happened or where he was. At one point, reading Mandarin on a fluid bag next to his bed, he thought he had awoken in China.
